I’ve met the Grim Reaper.
And, as you clearly see, I’ve lived to talk about it.
The first time, he looked at me, collected a soul, and moved on.
The second time, he looked at me, did a double-take, and did his usual business.
Then came the respectful nods. The handshakes. The smalltalk.
Then, after about twenty times, he put his bony hand on my shoulder, and said “I see a lot of folks in your line of work, and I’m impressed at your skill. You never leave any witnesses. I’ll see you next time.”
Quiet in here, isn’t it?